


Butch Macartney and the Secretan Kid

by leiascully



Category: Green Wing
Genre: Gen, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-21
Updated: 2007-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-03 02:04:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guy Secretan knew from the moment he pulled up that he, Guy, guyball champion, amazing shag, and all around great catch, would own this hospital in mere weeks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butch Macartney and the Secretan Kid

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: pre-series  
> A/N: Written for Carlotta Valdes for [Yuletide 2007](http://www.yuletidetreasure.org). Beta by the wonderful and genuinely English [**catwalksalone**](http://catwalksalone.livejournal.com/).   
> Disclaimer: _Green Wing_ and all related characters are the property of Victoria Pile and BBC4. I make no profit and no infringement is intended.

New job, new hospital, new and fairly decent crew of nurses: Guy Secretan knew from the moment he pulled up that he, Guy, guyball champion, amazing shag, and all around great catch, would own this hospital in mere weeks. It was inevitable.

And then he stepped into surgery and found himself standing next to a complete tosspot with an absurd fringe of gingery curls sticking out unattractively from under the edges of the sterile bonnet. As if all surgeons weren't tosspots already, this one had to go and try to occupy the Throne of Hair Perfection which was, undoubtedly, already sat in by one Guillaume Secretan, who knew how to properly manage curls in a bonnet-heavy environment. But he had to admit, as he lounged at the top of the table, counting the patient's eyelashes, the man did have steady hands. Better in the cutting and pasting department than the hair maintenance department, certainly. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, having this ginger bunny as his surgeon. Yes, it was something Guy could work with, as long as Le Gingre knew when it was time to buy a round.

"Hey, Mac," said Le Gingre as they scrubbed out at the sink. He held out one pale hand.

"No, Guy," said Guy, mustering his best look of skeptical disdain. Le Gingre's mouth twitched up at the corner.

"I'm Mac. Dr. Macartney. You know, from five minutes ago." He tilted his head back over his shoulder.

"Guy Secretan, 'm the new anesthestist," Guy said, and then realized he was still holding the bloke's hand. He let go quickly, but Ginger Mac didn't seem to have noticed. King of Cool or just not bothered to be holding a man's hand? Guy sized him up suspiciously. "It's Swiss."

"Hmm?"

"My name. Me. I am. Swiss."

"Ah," said Mac. "Phil Collins. Chocolate rivers. Streets full of watches and paved with Nazi gold."

"Fuck off," said Guy comfortably, and then wondered whether he ought to be saying that to someone he'd only just met.

"Had the tour yet?" Mac said, bland as paste.

"Sort of," said Guy, shifting from foot to foot. "Got dragged around by some lanky blonde hag with 'last call' stamped across her forehead."

"Oh, well," Mac clucked, "we can do better than that. You didn't happen to run into a twitchy radiologist called Statham, did you?"

"Looks like somebody taught a mangy ferret to wear a lab coat?"

Mac snapped his fingers and pointed at Guy. "The very one."

"As if radiology's even proper doctoring," Guy said, putting on his best scornful tone. "Should have saved the mashed potato from lunch to put in his desk drawer."

Mac nodded approvingly, perching on the cabinets like some absurd ginger biddy. "I like the way your mind works, Secretan. Plotting. Scheming," he said. "Shall we have a drink on it after work?"

"Anywhere decent around here?"

"Oh, we make do," said Mac with the kind of enigmatic smile that Guy despised. Yet somehow he didn't want to punch Mac, so that was all right.

They went round to the pub at the end of the day, after all the patients had been seen to. Mac seemed to know ninety six percent of the hospital by sight; it was all high fives and jollity, even with the sickies. Guy's grin was a bit strained at the end of the pointless ritual of talking to ugly and ill people. Secretan time was too valuable to waste. He still had to get back to the hotel and call about that flat after the pub. It was good to have the dark pint in front of him.

"Cheers," said Mac, and Guy toasted and threw back a deep quaff of Guinness.

"So what d'you do for entertainment around this place?"

"Entertainment, Dr. Secretan? Oh my, no, we're all deadly serious here. Entertainment wouldn't be appropriate," said Mac in a passable imitation of the ferrety radiologist.

"I despise him already," Guy said.

"It doesn't take much," Mac said. Guy leaned back and looked around the pub. It was mostly hospital staff, though only the homely nurses seemed to have turned up. "Who's that?"

"Married," Mac said over the rim of his glass.

"They always are," Guy sulked. "That one?"

"Lesbian," Mac said with a certain amount of relish. "The other one's her partner."

"That is either uncomfortably arousing or just bloody weird," said Guy.

"Amen," said Mac. "Look, you might as well give up for now."

"That one." Guy pointed wildly.

"Herpes."

Guy flinched. Mac was right; there wasn't one piece of decent and unattached gash in the place. Except that one of them was sort of all right from the back: slightly dumpy, slightly ginger, hair completely mad like everyone else in this dump. But not bad, figure-wise.

"Get a load of Chubby over there," Guy said, nudging Mac. "Think she owns a hairdryer?"

Mac was drinking. It was impossible to tell from his pasty smooth face what he was thinking of. Guy had begun to suspect Mac was neutered: nobody could put up with attractive and gooey-voiced nurses all the time and not succumb. Well enough. That left more for the attractive Swiss anaesthetist and all around great catch.

"I wouldn't," said Mac, putting down his glass at last just as Guy was about to get up.

"Why not?" said Guy. "She hasn't got a ring on, the way she's leaning over to that bartender suggests she doesn't dive for muff. In any other circumstance, not with a ten foot pole, and I do mean that literally, but I'm a man in a pub and I'll be damned if I'm not going to get laid tonight."

"Not that one," Mac said. "She's got a boyfriend."

"So?" said Guy. "Look at her. She looks like she'd be having a last round in the foyer of the church on your wedding day. If you think so much of her, maybe you ought to get married and have pasty ginger spawn."

"Just warning you," Mac said, and sank into his pint.

"Damn right," Guy said irritably. "Oh, she's looking over here. Mouth like that, she's probably begging men to drop their trousers. Only reason to have a grin that wide."

"Genetics has nothing to do with it, I suppose?" Mac said.

"Yeah, genetics is going to have something to do with this," Guy said, gesturing toward his crotch, and slid out of the booth. Mac had gone all frozen faced. Guy sauntered his way up to Chubby, all Swiss charm in bespoke trousers. "I'll see you in Zurich," he said into his cell, and then stopped as if she'd caught his eye. Bloody women always fell for it. "Hallooo," he said in his best voice.

"Oh!" she twittered. "You don't have to get up on my account! I was just coming over."

"Were you now?" said Guy smoothly, leaning over her. "How...coincidental."

"Not so much," she said, twisting her mouth up in an unattractive way. "After all, you are sitting with Paul. I'm Holly, by the way." She stuck out her hand and he shook it with distaste. She had a mannish grip. It was completely unappealing.

Also completely unappealing was the way she dropped into the booth beside Mac and kissed him like someone who'd done that very thing an awful lot of times before.

"Oh," said Guy. "Huh."

"Are you going to introduce me, Paul?" Holly chirped.

"Holly, this is Guy Secretan, my new anaesthetist. Guy, this is Holly. My girlfriend."

"Actually, just came to drop my drink," Holly said, popping up again. "Be back in a mo, darling. Just got to powder the nose and wash the hands, you know." She bunked off cheerfully to the loo.

"You twat, why didn't you say anything?" Guy hissed.

"I tried," Mac said stiffly. "You were on the hunt, Secretan, who was going to stop you?" Guy kept an eye on Mac's hands, which were clenched.

"Now we both look like bloody idiots," Guy said.

"Not for lack of wiser heads," Mac said.

"Oh, get off it, you pompous twit," Guy said, and stomped away.

They didn't speak for a week, at which point Guy got tired of having only Martin, who was, after all, only a bloody student and a nuisance besides, to talk to, and left a box of the good cereal on top of Mac's locker, by way of apology for eating the rest of the other box, which had had Mac's name on it, in revenge, and also for possibly thinking about trying to seduce his awful girlfriend as a complete last resort. Oddly enough, Mac seemed to understand the hidden message. Maybe the box had come with a decoder ring.

At the end of six weeks, he, Guy, had slept his way through fully a third of the nurses (seemed like a slow start, but it was a big place), and the other one, Le Gingre, Mac Macartney, had bought several rounds. In fact, he'd bought most of the rounds, being one of those quintessential Good Blokes whom Guy had tried to hard to avoid in school. The sort of chap who never seemed to be studying, but always got top marks, the sort of chap the nurses adored. The sort of chap who paid the tab when you pretended to be in the loo but really slipped out the side door to avoid the dog's breakfast you'd accidentally pulled last weekend. Despite the doe eyes of the nursing staff, Mac continued to be exclusive with Holly from Paediatrics, which suited Guy fine: she wasn't his type, too sharp by half, and always pulling pranks and nuzzling at Mac. Well, the pranks would have been all right, if she'd had any sense of execution or style. But Mac didn't seem to mind.

They were in the pub one night, Guy on the prowl, Mac with his elbows on the table, and Martin Wotsisname hanging about, when Holly swanned in something vaguely glitzy. "Hallo, darling," she said to Mac, and kissed him. "Boys."

"Evening, Holly," said Martin at least half an octave lower than his usual screech.

"You look slightly less rough than usual," Guy said, casting an eye over her. "What's the occasion?"

"Why, Doctor Secretan, flirting with me in front of Mac," she said, rolling her eyes unattractively. "I'm going round to Preity's, she's having a bit of a do to celebrate being made consultant. My invite's plus one - any takers?"

Guy leaned in closer to Mac, eyes narrowed a little against the changing equilibrium in his stomach as the Guinness sloshed. "Which one's Preity?"

"Indian girl from Oncology," Mac murmured back. "Dark hair. Dark eyes. Married to some stock market whiz."

Guy mulled it over. "Stacked?"

"Temporarily. Pregnant."

Guy sat back. "Can't make it, sorry."

"Paul?" Holly cooed.

Mac peered through the head on his pint. "Think I'll skip this one, sweet, but you go on."

"Martin?" She turned to the nervous little vole who seemed to think he and Mac and now Guy were besties forever, when in fact, Guy thought, Martin would never be even at Mac's pathetic calibre of cool, and would probably not have survived at Guy's school, being mostly good for sopping up spills.

"Yeah, all right," Martin said, trying for casual, but he overturned the peanut bowl and his empty BritVic glass when he tried to get up. Holly bent down for a quick kiss from Mac, and then he and Guy had the table to themselves.

"So how about that Sue White?" Guy asked, completely casual. "She with anyone? Not that it matters if she is."

"She's a lunatic," Mac said.

"She's got legs I wouldn't mind seeing wrapped around me," said Guy.

"Bad things," said Mac. "Very bad things. Trust me this time."

"You're not shagging her?" Guy said suspiciously.

"Jesus no," Mac said, looking horrified, or at least as horrified as an emotionless ginger freak could look.

"I bet I can drink a pint faster than you can," Guy said after a moment.

Mac, in answer, drained his glass and held up his hand for another round.

"Ready?" said Guy, holding up his frothing glass. "Set?" He started drinking and Mac swore and grabbed his own pint. By the time Guy choked down the last drops, Mac was already wiping his mouth and panting.

"Two out of three," Guy said, and called for another round. Two of three turning into three of five turned into five of something turned into dismantling Statham's office equipment and moving it all to the men's bathroom.

"Brilliant. Brilliant," said Mac sloshily, knocking the desk back together with a hammer he'd found who knew where.

"Grillan," Guy agreed, spinning in the chair, and God, he was going to be sick if he didn't cool off soon. "Need a swim."

"Brilliant," said Mac.

"Race you," said Guy and they stumbled down the corridor and into the Hydrotherapy room. Guy shoved Mac into the pool but Mac grabbed on and was stronger enough to topple him (only, Guy would later swear, because of gravity and alcohol and the other's magnifying effect on the one) and then they were lying on the benches in the locker room, gasping and soaked, Guy's best trousers all to ruins with the chlorine.

"Fuck me," said Mac, looking like a dying fish. "Holly's going to kill me."

"Best part of living alone," said Guy, coughing up some water. "No accountability."

Mac turned over and drooled a little bit. "Statham's going to shit a brick."

"Many, many bricks," Guy assured him. "God, I'm never drinking and then swimming again."

"Don't discount the possibilities," Mac said. "I'm sure we've got many idiotic nights ahead of us."

"Here's to us," said Guy, and spat out a considerable amount of disgusting pool water.

"You know," said Mac, burbling up his own pint of pool, "this could be the beginning of-"

"Pneumonia? The end of your glittering career?"

"I was going to say 'a beautiful friendship'," said Mac, "but I could be persuaded to change my mind," and leapt for Guy's glistening curls.


End file.
